Always, Together
by lovestruck001
Summary: What if it had been LYLA that came back to Dillon for Christmas, not Tyra? How would she deal with post-prison Tim? Is this another lust fueled reunion or is Lyla here to stay? Takes over from Season 5, "Always".
1. Chapter 1

_Whenever I watch the end of season 5, I always HATE the way they leave Tim! Everyone else's life seems to be shaping into something amazing, but his is still so full of uncertainty and loose ends._

_I also hate how Lyla and Tim never got any sort of happy ending. Tyra coming back seemed so forced to be and it seemed obvious that she was a second choice in that situation._

_But what if it had been Lyla that had come back? This story basically takes off after the last episode of season 5, but replace all the Tyra scenes with Lyla! It starts off right after the picnic scene, where Tim talks about their dreams meeting up one day._

_Another note: for the sake of this story Coach and Tami are NOT leaving Dillon but decide to stay. I'm erasing Philadelphia and that job offer completely. _

_I will still continue working on "Full grown" and will update soon!_

_Please review and tell me what you all think! If there's interest, I can add more chapters. If not, I'll leave it as a one-shot!_

"I have dreams too. I'm going to build a house exactly where we're sitting and I'll get a job. And I'm never going to do anything illegal for the rest of my life. Guarantee it. Maybe one day our dreams can merge together." Tim tentatively sipped his beer, staring off into the wide expanse of his land. The last time he'd seen Lyla Garrity, he'd said his goodbyes and had convinced himself that was it. He'd told her at Billy's wedding that he didn't want to be the guy that held her back and he knew that if he didn't cut her out, she'd let him. But things were different now; he wasn't the wandering anymore. Jail could do that to you: put someone in a small cell with nothing to do for hours upon hours but think and they would eventually be forced to come up with some sort of life plan.

"I'd like that." Lyla stated simply, a smile creeping onto her face. She couldn't stop looking at him; all she wanted to do was touch and make sure he was real. When Buddy had told her about Tim going to jail, she'd been furious. He knew better than that, he was better than some washed up high school football star turned criminal. She hated herself for ever even giving him a chance and was even more furious for shedding tears for Tim Riggins. But when she saw him at her dads bar, she'd softened: this wasn't the Tim she knew, this was someone who was hard and cold and humorless. How could anyone stay mad at someone who had clearly learnt their lesson? When she heard about his cover-up for Billy, her heart simultaneously soared and severed. Back in the day, Tim used to tell Jason he'd be the "caretaker" on his million dollar ranch; keeping all the pieces together while Jason went off to be a star. Those dreams were nothing but memories now, but Tim had always been the "caretaker", the one with the biggest heart out of all of them.

"What are your dreams these days, Garrity? Last I checked, they didn't involve Dillon." Tim drawled, finally looking at her. She looked beautiful, the sun hitting her just right as it sank below the horizon.

"You never know how much you miss something until it's gone, Tim." College had been an amazing experience for Lyla. Her eyes were opened to a whole new world with a different set of rules. Vanderbilt promised culture, people from all different walks of life with difference experiences to share and an array of opportunities to become whoever you wanted to be. But all the things she took for granted in Dillon were suddenly apparent: no one stopped to say hello, you could get lost in the sea of people and places around you, and there was no community to catch you when you fall. She'd missed this place, despite its football madness and collection of characters.

"Trust me, I know that one real well. I don't think I've ever appreciated being able to take a piss in private quite as much as I do now." Prison had been both an experiment in solitude and constant company for Tim. You spent tons of time sitting in your cell, essentially alone. But you were never in fact truly 'alone' with cameras, the cold stare of guards and the equally dark looks of fellow inmates following you every step of the way. The first week back, Billy had been all about family time and including Tim in every celebration for his 'homecoming', thinking his little brother was lonely yet all Tim had wanted to do was crawl into the Airstream and sleep in utter solitude for as long as he could.

"Let's take a walk." Lyla offered, lifting herself heavily out of the lawn chair which had sunk deeply into the soft earth. She wasn't quite sure how to talk to Tim about prison. It's not like she could relate; during the summer of junior high her parents had forced her to go to some Bible camp up in Oklahoma against her will but she didn't think that was a fair comparison.

"I'll take you out back to the lake. I guess it's more a pond now, but Billy said in the spring it really swells up. I'm thinking I'll put a dock in and it can be a little swimming hole for Stevie and all the future Rigglets." Tim beamed when talking about his land. He hadn't quite worked out what he was going to do for the rest of his life, but he did have a meticulously laid out plan for how he was going to build his dream home. This place, it was all his, which with the exception of his truck, was something he'd never had before.

"Tim Riggins, the property owner. I guess you beat Jason to it, huh?" Lyla slid his hand into his as they started walking, his big callused paw dwarfing her dainty fingers. Tim smiled, letting his hair fall into his face. He and Jason had written consistently while he was in prison. It had kept him sane, that small piece of normalcy left in his life. Street talked about Noah and how he was such a handful, how he'd finally found that life he'd thought he'd lost forever during that fateful football game.

"6 will be out here all right. Noah can teach Stevie how to throw a ball properly and get all the ladies, like Jay taught me. We all know Billy ain't worth a damn for anything but yellin'." He'd never admit it to him, but Tim was proud of Billy, now a Panthers coach. He'd pulled himself together, although he still drank too much and should properly invest in some Trojans before Mindy started repopulating the earth. But he'd come a long way, Tim had to give him that.

"God, when did we grow up Tim? I still remember trying to convince you to do your math homework. And sneaking out of my room to go meet up with Jason at the Alamo Freeze. Now he has a baby and you're building a house and…" Lyla stopped, coming to the edge of the pond. The setting sun was reflected across the glassy water, making the stifling heat and buzzing gnats worth the view. Tim pulled up behind her, tentatively wrapping his arms around her. She sunk back into him, enjoying the solidness against her back. He smelled like nostalgia; sneaking into her room late at night and mumbling 'I love you' to the rhythm of her squeaking bed.

"What about you? Are you grown up yet, Lyla?" Tim felt like holding his breath, he still couldn't believe she was here and that she was, at least in this moment, his. Touching her, holding her felt so right and familiar, like sinking into a pair of well-worn cowboy boots. Yet, it also made him feel like he was staring into sun, unable to look away despite the risk of a serious burn. Last night, after kissing in the parking lot, both hungry for more, he'd taken her back to the trailer and had the best sex of his life. He was ravenous for human contact, for love, after being deprived and for whatever reason she was happy to provide it. It had been both rough and slow, meaningful and depraved but perfect in all the ways that mattered.

"I'm getting there. I think when I left for Vanderbilt, I thought I was already all grown up. God, I was so self-absorbed. I always knew everything, right? But I've still got a lot to learn I think." The sun was setting in earnest now, the light around the pond quickly fading.

"I'd say you still know plenty. You knew me better than I knew myself most times. You and Coach, the only two people who ever gave a shit." Tim smiled into her hair, remembering in particular his senior year of high school when not a day went by that one of them did not call him an idiot, but always with the best intentions. He reckoned they were probably right, thinking back onto those days of six pack beers before breakfast and the constant promise of a hangover.

"There's not a lot of people out there like Coach and Mrs. Taylor. You learn that pretty fast in the big city. We're lucky out here, because people like that are attracted to this place for some reason." After her first few weeks at Vanderbilt, Lyla had had a breakdown of sorts. For the first time in years, school was hard. Her roommate was a bitch and she wasn't making friends like she thought she would. She'd headed down to the university's student help centre, reminiscing of all the times Mrs. Taylor had pulled her aside after Jason's accident and let her cry it out in private in her office. But this wasn't Dillon and the counsellors at Vanderbilt had no time for little girls that were homesick; if you didn't have a drug problem, an unplanned pregnancy or serious family emergency you were handed a pamphlet on 'Coping' and ushered out before you could even begin.

"I think it's why you're back here too, isn't it? As much as you try, Garitty, you just don't have it in you to be one of those slick city girls. I bet you still wear the same cowboy boots and jeans you did back in high school, huh?" Tim spun her around and wrapped his arms around her waist, hands resting comfortable in the back pocket of her jeans. He remembered what he felt like when he'd gone to New York City with Jay, like a bull in a china shop. He imagined Lyla was a bit more refined than him, but it still wasn't where she belonged either.

"I'm here for some good educational opportunities. We'll see what comes out of it." Lyla said, somewhat defensively, not wanting to admit to Tim that he was right. He smiled and leaned down to kiss her, a familiar feeling she'd longed for but forced herself to repress for so long now.

"Yeah? Any other kind of opportunities you here for?" He whispered quietly against her lips. He'd heard from Buddy that she was doing a co-op term with Mrs. Taylor at East Dillon, working with her as an assistant counsellor of some sort. Tami had pulled some strings and the moment East Dillon heard the words "unpaid intern" they'd jumped at the opportunity to milk a young college student for all she was worth. He knew she'd be good at it. Heck, she'd been 'counselling' Jason and him for years, long before she had any qualifications for it! He still remembered their trip to Mexico and how she was the only one he thought had a chance in hell of convincing Jay of anything.

"I've got some thoughts about things. I hear that Luke Caffertey is pretty cute and a better running back than some guy that goes by #33. Figured I'd check him out…"She replied coyly.

"Oh, now you've done it, Garitty. Come here!" Tim hoisted her up over his shoulder amidst her laughter and girl-ish screams of protest. He dumped her back in their lawn chairs, now barely visible in the fading sunlight, kneeling before her.

"I missed you, Tim Riggins," She said with a smile on her face, running her hands through his too long and unruly hair. He smiled and said nothing, the look in his hazel eyes echoing volumes back at her. She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Let's go home."

Tim nodded, gathering up their chairs and making their way back to the truck. Lyla slid in beside him, feeling the familiar leather seat crackle under her legs. This felt right, it felt like home.

/

"So are you going to stay in the Airstream until everything's built?" The trailer was fairly well kept all things considering, but it was small and technically, it wasn't even his. She was laying in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to decide if the rust shaped stains had been there the last time she was here.

"For now, yeah. Becky's mom feels pretty guilty about everything that went down before I left so she's not even charging me rent. I'm thinking I'll give her some cash and see if she'll let me hitch it up and drive it up to the land. No sense in owning property if you can't rest your house on it." Tim rolled over onto his stomach, naked and tangled in the sheets, to get a better look at her. She had the glow of a woman freshly ravished, which he'd thought he'd done a fine job of. Back in his Dillon Panthers days, he used to jump from girl to girl, never really satisfied with repeat encounters. It was all about 'making memories' and it wasn't really a new memory if you'd already been there once. But with Lyla, it was new every time; he'd once told her she was the best he'd ever had and to this day almost 4 years later he still stood by that.

"How is Becky, by the way? Am I going to find her writing 'Mrs. Tim Riggins' all over her notebooks? Or hiding in the closet, waiting to pounce on you?" She's seen Becky Sproles at the Alamo Freeze earlier in the week. Even from a distance, it was obvious that the young, uncertain teenager had matured into a strong, confident woman who wasn't past yelling at the manager for scrimping on her order of fries.

"Nah she's got Luke for that now. Poor guy, off to military training but she mails him these bride magazines weekly, asking what color pew bows he'd like for their wedding. He came home for the weekend a while back and they watched 6 straight seasons of those garbage wedding shows where girls scream about some six figure white poofball. Makes Mindy look like a saint." That was saying something, considering Mindy had demanded a wedding dress complete with attached fairy wings, which had not come easy nor cheap. Lyla laughed, her eyes starting to droop.

"Let's get to sleep Garitty. We've got plenty of time to catch you up on all the Dillon, Texas social news in the morning." Tim kissed her forehead, grabbing his pillow and quickly dozing off himself.

/

"AHHHHHH!" Tim hollered, jumping out of bed and banging his head with a loud thud against the trailer wall. Lyla leaped out of bed, awakened abruptly by his sudden outburst. He was sitting up, sheets pushed in a puddle on his lab, bent over and gasping for air. She could see his fresh tattoo stretching across his ribs, straining with each of his pained gulps for air. "No regrets", it said in some foreign tongue, although she could bet he harbored some.

"Are…are you okay?" Lyla had never seen him like this, so broken and pained. His eyes shined madly, reflecting pain that he wasn't ready to talk about yet. His whole body seemed to be shaking with nervous energy, she could almost feel it vibrating off of him. It made her heart hurt for him.

"Yeah…I just…just need some air." He pulled himself out of bed, sliding on his briefs and jumping out of the trailer. Standing outside, he stared up at the sky, heaving for air and trying to calm himself. He was fine, he was out, he was free. But his brain hadn't caught up to those facts yet. On especially hot summer nights, with the stifling head pressing all around him, he was reminded of what it felt like to be caged and to not be able to get away. He could hear the crickets chirping outside, a sound he'd missed. Prison was full of sounds, none of them pleasant. When he'd first gotten out, the silence had been welcoming. But now, it was just as sinister; he would start to hear sounds come out of the quiet, screams and grunts and the constant noise of 200 men breathing in small, tiny cages.

"Come on." Lyla was dragging his ratty mattress through the trailer door, looking quite comical as she tried to keep the sheet wrapped around herself. She probably thought he was crazy and unstable now, a grown man plagued by child-like nightmares.

"What are you doing?" He asked as he grabbed the corner of the mattress she was struggling with and effortlessly pulled it through the trailer door. She looked a little stunned, her hair still messy from sleep.

"It's too hot in there. Let's sleep out here. We can set up behind the trailer where the ground is clear and no one can see us." Before he could even protest, she'd managed to tie the sheet up and grab the mattress in earnest, placing it on the dry concrete slab behind his living quarters.

"You sure about this?" Lyla wasn't the outdoorsy type and he could bet she'd never slept outside like this before. Maybe in one of those ultra-camper things Buddy owned, which was nicer than his childhood home, but never truly outside with no barrier between her and nature.

"Yeah now get in here before a snake crawls in or something." He complied, shaking off that feeling of anxiety that always came over him after the nightmares and sliding up to her on the narrow mattress. This felt good, like he wasn't trapped by anything. The gentle summer breeze did little to cool them off but feeling it across his clammy skin kept him grounded and in the present, living as a free man.

"Thank you." He whispered quietly, sliding his arms around her. She said nothing, intertwining her body with his and closing her eyes as she pressed her face into his chest, listening to the slowing rhythm of his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

"So right over there is the homework club room. That way is where detention is held after school and it's where you'll catch most of the kids you need to see. And finally, here's your office!" Tami was incredibly chipper on this Monday morning. She'd had a relaxing Christmas holiday. Despite the disintegration of the East Dillon Lions and Eric's sour mood following Julie's engagement announcement, she'd managed to enjoy her time off. Now, Eric was over at West Dillon and she was here showing a shocked Lyla Garrity the supply closet that had been converted, somewhat shabbily, into an office space.

"Oh! How nice…I get my own office!" Lyla smiled, trying to stay positive. Her first day at East Dillon had been an eye opener. She'd never really spent much time on this side of town, as she'd never really had a reason to cross the unofficial boundary of Smith Rd. To Lyla, poverty was what the Riggins lived in, with their moldy old bungalow and lack of anything nutritious in the cupboards. But she quickly realized that here at East Dillon, poverty had a much more stringent definition and even having a stable roof over you every night wasn't a guarantee.

"Well it's getting cramped up in the guidance office so I figured you wouldn't mind being out here! It'll be great! You're right in the middle of the busiest hallway here so kids can stop by anytime and drop in for a chat!" Lyla wondered how they would know the unmarked closet door, still labelled "Janitor's Area" would even be recognizable to the students of East Dillon. Not that any of them seemed all that interested in her, at least not for the right reasons judging by the catcalls she'd experienced this morning when Tim had dropped her off. She'd gone with her most conservative blouse, despite the teasing she'd received from Tim, who'd insisted on calling her 'Ma'am' for the whole ride to school.

"It's perfect! I'm really excited to get started, Mrs. Taylor. Thank you so much again for this opportunity." She was excited; this was a chance to build her skills in a setting that presented many more challenges than the private school she had volunteered at whilst at Vanderbilt, where the issues she'd faced had usually been related to Facebook de-friending and not having the newest iPhone.

"Oh, call my Tami! We're co-workers now! Honestly, dear, I think you'll do good work here. It's not easy now, I'll warn you. But it's worth it when these kids succeed at the end of the year, trust me." Lyla was as doe-eyed and fresh-faced as the last day Tami had seen her during the graduation ceremony. She hoped Lyla could handle East Dillon, knowing that some of its inhabitants would easily challenge her young charges unrelenting optimism.

"Jamal, what are you doing here? You're suspended! You can't be on school grounds!" With that, Tami was off, shepherding a reluctant student out of East Dillon's front doors. Lyla walked into her office, dusting off her ancient PC and settling into her new desk. She was nervous for her first appointment, although Tami had promised her that they would only be sending her the 'easy' cases, looking over class schedules and such. She would be shadowing Tami for the most part, reading student files to help identify at risk kids and monitoring the homework club. She chuckled to herself, thinking how Tim, Tyra and probably even Matt Saracen would have all probably been strong candidates for the homework club back in her day. She missed high school, despite how badly she had been clawing to get out of there back in the day; it made her nostalgic being back here. She could hear the homeroom bell ringing beyond her door and the sounds unanimous to all high schools: chatter amongst students, lockers slamming shut, the squeak of sneakers of linoleum.

"'Scuse me? You Miss Garrity?" The knocking on her door made Lyla jump out of her daydreams. She nodded, motioning to the young girl at her door that it was safe to enter.

"I need to miss first period on Wednesdays and Mrs. Taylor said you could help me." The girl was larger and stood uncomfortably in the tiny room, eyeing the narrow plastic chairs in front of Lyla's desk untrustingly.

"Okay. Why don't we start with your name?" Lyla smiled, trying her best to look as friendly yet responsible as always did back in her day.

"Trina. Here's my schedule." She shoved the paperwork over to Lyla, most of it crinkled and a signature scrawled here and there.

"Looks like you'll be missing English every Wednesday. Could you tell me why you'll need to miss first period?" Schedules and the sanctity of education where what made Lyla Garrity the organized, successful woman she was. She couldn't let Trina lose out on that.

"My mom signed the paper." Trina said, face unwavering and bored. She crossed her arms and looked this new counsellor up and down; definitely not another Mrs. Taylor that she had here on her hands.

"Hmm okay yes I see that. But if we could just talk about this, I'm sure we could figure it out. Whatever it is you're doing on Wednesday mornings, could you move it? I mean, I'm sure it's important, but Trina school has to come first and – "

"Look lady, I'm not here to ask you about your opinion. My mom signed the paper and now you sign the paper so I can get the hell out of here." Trina stared Lyla down, using her standing advantage to make her feel particularly small and useless.

"No." After a long silence, Lyla answered, steeling her voice to prevent the quiver of nervousness she was suppressing from escaping. Trina looked at her for a second longer, before muttering 'bitch' under her breath, grabbing the paperwork and slamming the door as she stormed out.

"Great job, Garrity." Lyla muttered to herself, dropping her head into her hands. She had no idea what she was doing here.

/

"You're in a good mood. I guess bumping uglies with Lyla has made you less of a crabby son of a bitch." Billy laughed, chugging down a beer and narrowly avoiding the empty can aimed directly at his head. He was helping Tim put the framing up for his new house; despite the oppressive heat and his little brother's lack of conversation skills he'd jumped at the chance to do this given that their relationship had been nothing but tumultuous since Tim's release from prison.

"Come on little brother, I'm happy for you! You needed this. Got you out of that funk." Billy tried to ruffle Tim's hair, longer and much more unruly than the last time he'd seen him, but his 'little' brother easily shoved away his arm. Despite his attempts at surliness, Tim was smiling. Billy was right, he was in a great mood: Lyla was back, his house was finally coming up and he was free.

"You're just jealous now that you're banned from Mindy's bat cave." The mother of Billy's soon to be twins had officially declared a boycott on all sexual activities, claiming that it gave her indigestion. Billy squinted with annoyance at Tim, clearly regretting giving his brother this tidbit of information during a drunken moment of truthfulness.

"Nah that's just for now. You just wait. She can't resist me. Why do you think we're having twins in the first place?" Tim laughed. Despite his residual resentment, he'd missed this. Billy had been his best friend for as long as he could remember, which was probably why he made such a shitty parental guardian. He'd been angry at his brother when he'd first come out of jail; he'd made the ultimate sacrifice to give Billy the chance to make something out of his life yet here he was pissing it away with beer and a consistent string of idiotic decisions. But he soon realized he'd been tough on his older brother. Billy had taken care of Becky, albeit letting her work at the Landing Strip was still unforgivable in his mind, and he'd somehow managed to get a decent job with the Panthers. He'd pulled it together, although in typical Billy fashion, there had been bumps along the way.

"So what exactly is going on with you and Garrity? I noticed she's been staying at your place an awful lot." Billy probed tentatively. Lyla had been sleeping in the trailer most nights, going home to Buddy's occasionally for a nice hot shower, laundry and a meal with her dear old dad. They'd talked about all sorts of things; his time in Dillon since she'd left and her days in Vanderbilt, but the subject of 'them' had been deliberately avoided. This felt all too familiar to Tim, taking him back to the start of senior year when she had refused to acknowledge him as anything more than a 'friend'.

"I don't know. We talk a lot. We have sex. She goes to the grocery store with me and we walk through the housewares aisle and she tells me what she thinks would look good in my new house. I don't know." Many people wouldn't really picture Tim Riggins as someone who liked labels, but it was true. He liked things to be 'official', to know where he stood, especially with Lyla who he was determined to not let get away this time.

"Ah she's here for a good time, not a long time, Timmy. Be careful with that one." Billy had never been a fan. For one, Lyla not only nagged Tim but was also always ready to tear Billy a new one. She also had his brother wrapped around her little finger; he remembered Tim after she'd left last year. Billy hated to see his brother like that, all moody and sullen. No amount of beer and free lap dances could cheer him up and Billy didn't know any other remedies for heartbreak.

"No, I don't think so Billy. It's different this time. I'm different." It was true: he'd signed up for some courses at Dillon Tech, unbeknownst to Lyla or anyone else. He started class tomorrow, just a few classes in construction engineering and carpentry. He'd long realized college wasn't for him. The idea of sitting around and listening to a bunch of stuffy old guys discuss books written by even stuffier, older guys was his definition of torture. To Tim, there was no use for that information in his head; he couldn't think of one situation where reciting 'Ulysses' would be useful for him. But building something with his hands, now that was something he as good at and could get into, something that made sense.

"Whatever you say Tim. Just don't get yourself into this mess again with that girl. You need to be straight with her like I am with Mindy. Pull her aside and say 'Look, woman. I am a man and I am going to ask you what you want and you're going to tell me.' You gotta get her to be straight with you, Timmy, and the best way to do that is to show her who's boss. Assert your dominance." Tim snorted, putting down his beer and rolling his eyes at his brother. He'd seen Billy painting Mindy's toenails when she got too pregnant to do it herself. His brother was all talk, but everyone knew who the 'dominant' one was in that relationship.

"Yeah Billy I can't really see Lyla responding to that very well." He imagined the look she'd give him if he ever started a sentence with 'look, woman' and it made him cringe just thinking about it.

"Speak of the devil." Billy muttered, turning his gaze to the beat up Honda coming up the driveway. He grabbed his tools, hoping he could get out of here and avoid the confrontation that was bound to happen when Lyla saw him.

"Billy." Too late. Damn she was fast. Billy nodded at her, hearing the venom dripping in her voice. He could guess Tim had told her about the origins of his jail trip, judging solely by the expression on her face as she walked towards him.

"How was your day as the next Mrs. Taylor?" Tim asked, dropping his tools to wrap her in a hug, kissing her before she could even answer. Billy grimaced and waved to his brother, who ignored him. He could understand that Lyla was hot, but no woman was good looking enough to deal with that constant, nagging patronizing voice. He jumped into his Camaro and sped home, thanking his lucky stars that he'd found his Minds, the perfect woman for him.

"Ugh, I'm a total disaster. I spent most of my day learning how to use the stupid antiquated computer system and then I somehow managed to crash the entire school network. They had to call someone from Dallas to guide the computer teacher on how to hook it back up! One of my appointments walked out on me and the other texted during our entire 10 minute conversation." She leaned solidly on Tim, releasing the pressure from her cramped, blistered feet. He smelled like sweat and aftershave, that familiar scent that always made her think of his high school bedroom with its Christmas lights and Texas Longhorns posters.

"It'll get better. I was pretty resistant to your first counselling attempts but you convinced me." Tim reminded her.

"You only started listening to me once I started having sex with you." Lyla retorted, remembering the stubbornness he'd displayed right after Jason's accident.

"Yeah well, that helped too." Tim smiled at her as she chuckled.

"Let's go do something. Call up Matt and Julie. I need a drink." She muttered, letting him go and making her way to the trailer, which he had managed to drag out here. Tim shrugged: if Lyla needed a drink, who was he to say no?

/

"They're so happy together." Lyla mused, well into her fifth beer and definitely feeling tipsy. Matt and Julie were swaying to some country song, putting their mandatory high school square dancing lessons to use. Lyla would've also been dancing if only she could stand without swaying.

"Yeah, I think seven's finally found his girl." Tim watched, noticing the ring on Julie's finger sparkling under the dance floor spot lights. He still couldn't believe Coach had said no when Matt had asked to marry Julie. He couldn't think of a more terrifying man to pose that question to, with the exception of maybe Buddy Garrity, although his bark was often worse than his bite.

"That's it. We're dancing. Come on Riggins." Lyla stumbled up to her feet, composing herself long enough to drag Tim out to the dance floor. They weren't as much dancing as she was leaning on him, using his broad shoulders as a crutch for her suddenly leaded body.

"Back in the day, I always thought you'd be married to Tyra by now, you know. Probably have fathered a couple of rug rats and gotten fat and bald." She giggled, inducing a serious of hiccups that did nothing to calm the storm raging in her stomach.

"Yeah? You pictured me bald? I thought you'd be married to Street by now and living a Texas housewife's dream. I can just picture you in an apron with pigtails." Tim joked, although he'd honestly never been able to picture Lyla and Jason together in the forever kind of way. Back before Jay's accident he believed it was inevitable, but in his head it just wouldn't work.

"Pigtails? What kind of tacky housewife am I here Timmy?" She ran her fingers through his hair, thinking it needed to be cut soon or he'd be a better candidate for pigtails than she was.

"I don't think you're any kind of housewife these days. Got too much going for you nowadays, Garitty." Tim spun her around the dance floor slowly, knowing they probably looked crazy slow dancing to the pop tunes of Taylor Swift and Carrie Underwood, which was classified as 'country' in this joint.

"I still want that in the future. A job too. Both would be nice. But no apron and definitely no pigtails." She could picture herself at home with some tousle-headed toddlers at her feet, although it was a far distant memory.

"How about sometime pigtails? 'Cause I think you look pretty cute with them?"

"I could work with that." She replied, silencing him with a kiss that was much too steamy for this 'family' establishment.

"What are we doing, Lyla?" Tim broke their kiss, blurting out what he'd been thinking since his conversation with Billy. He was just drunk enough to outright ask her, loving the effects of liquid courage. They were talking about the future, albeit vaguely, and he couldn't help but picture her in it. He needed to know if that was something he should stop doing. Lyla stopped dancing, taking a step away from his and reaching over to their table to grab an onion ring from the half-finished appetizer platter they had shared.

"Tim Riggins, will you go steady with me?" She thrust out the onion ring, greasy in her hands. Tim smiled slowly, nodding before snatching the ring and popping it in his mouth.

"You just ate your promise ring!" Lyla shrieked in mock horror. Tim laughed, scoping her up and kissing her, despite her protests of onion breath.

"We're heading out now guys. Ready?" Matt Saracen had been their ride and judging by the way he was ogling his future wife and his tell-tale puffy lips and Julie's messy hair, he was ready to head home. Tim nodded, dragging Lyla along. They slid into the back of Matt's station wagon, crammed tightly with some of his canvases and art supplies, transplanted from Chicago.

"So Tim, what are you doing up there with the old McKay farmland?" Julie asked as she took her position behind the wheel as tonight's DD. Tim could talk about his land all day and had just started explaining his plans for a house when Lyla reached her hand over to his thigh, hiding under the darkness of the night and the car's unlit interior. Tim stiffened, trying to continue this conversation while Lyla's hand travelled farther up his inseam.

"Tell her about the lake, Tim." Lyla prompted, all the while moving closer to her target. Matt was asleep in the passenger seat, he'd always been a light weight and Julie was fairly occupied with the road. Tim shot her a look, attempting to subdue her drunken attempts without drawing attention. He continued to talk about his land, focusing on the back of Julie's head and trying his best to ignore Lyla's ministrations.

"That sounds amazing Tim. I can't wait to see the final product." Julie said as she pulled up his long driveway. Tim quickly blathered out his niceties before leaping from the car and stiff-leggedly making his way to the trailer with Lyla close in tow.

"You are crazy. I forgot about how you get when you're drunk." He said as he slammed the door and dragged her to the small bed, now neatly made and organized, something that would have never been seen before Lyla's arrival.

"It's how I get when I'm in love with somebody." She whispered, sliding into bed with him and making short work of his pants.

"Well then, let me just show you how I get when I'm in love with somebody." Tim replied, his face split into a wide grin as he cupped her face and kissed her deeply.


	3. Chapter 3

_A bit of a slower chapter just to get the plot moving along. _

_Please review if you have any suggestions at all. I'm still mulling over where I want this to go and any suggestions would be appreciated _

Homework club, Lyla concluded, was her own personal version of hell. She wandered the tables, pretending to look imposing whilst feeling anything but, her heels clacking on the floor loudly. Mrs. Taylor had insisted that she would be fine; if the socially awkward math teacher could handle this so could she. So far, she'd interfered on a hair pulling match between two rally girls and caught one of the football player's sexting with his girlfriend. She didn't feel as though she'd had much impact on both of the situations; the rally girls had simply been fixing each other's weaves and the football player was still tapping away on his phone, smiling ludicrously. Lyla had never been afraid of confrontation but standing up to these kids was different. Most of them had a deeply seeded distaste for authority and no amount of 'tough love' was going to change that, at least not in the sparse time she had with them.

"Wooo look at that ass." She'd been hearing whispers like this all week at school. Despite her best attempts at modesty, the male population of East Dillon had decided Lyla Garrity was the answer to all their hormone fueled sexy teacher fantasies. Mrs. Taylor had simply told her to ignore and set her boundaries early, but it was getting to her. She wanted to be taken seriously as someone who was here to listen and provide advice and nurture student-teacher relationships. So far, the only nurturing these students wanted from her was downright illegal.

"Miss? Can you help me with my math homework?" one of the football players raised his enormous hand. He was stuffed into a desk that was about two sizes too small for him, looking at her expectantly. Lyla hadn't taken math since high school, but back in the day she'd been pretty decent at it. Besides, she'd been waiting all day for this: a chance to do something productive and be helpful. Granted, she'd preferred something other than homework help, but beggars couldn't be choosers. She walked over quickly, tilting over the cumbersome young man to take a look at what appeared to be his algebra homework. As she leaned down, a perfectly timed spitball shot across the table and landed squarely in her cleavage. Lyla froze, feeling the oozy paper wad slide down between her breasts, nestling itself in the front of her bra. It was followed by another even wetter spit ball which landed with an audible splat on her right cheek before sliding down onto the table.

"Who was that?" She asked, keeping the quiver in her voice just barely under control. The boys at the table laughed, shrugging as they attempted to point fingers at their neighbor. Lyla could feel her face getting hot. She stared at the students in front of her, scanning each of their eyes for an admission of guilt. All she got was stone-faced stares and mirthful eyes, clearly enjoying her reaction.

"Nevermind. I think I got it now." The young man she had come to help turned back to his paper, snickering with his friends. She'd been set up. Taken the bait hook line and sinker. She could still feel the tips of her ears burning with embarrassment. She walked back over to her place at the front of the room, resting her hands on her desk and trying to compose herself.

"Okay. You're all dismissed." She tersely addressed her students before turning around and marching to the staff bathroom. They'd won for today, she'd had enough. Disgusted, she unbuttoned her blouse and dug the spitball out, throwing it into the trash. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, blouse half undone and hair dishevelled, looking more like someone who needed guidance rather than someone who was here to provide it.

"Don't cry about it, Garrity. It won't help." Lyla tried to calm herself down, although her eyes were filling with tears nonetheless. It wasn't supposed to be like this. In all the movies she'd ever watched, the kids with the rough life always loved the soft hearted teacher. This was humiliating and the worst part was that she'd have to do it again tomorrow.

"Dang it, Mr. Pagletti is such a hand talker it's a surprise he hasn't split coffee on me yet – " Tami Taylor mumbled to herself as she burst into the bathroom, rubbing at her coffee stained sweater with a wadded up paper towel. She stopped abruptly when she saw Lyla, blouse still unbuttoned and brown eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"So sorry , I was just heading out." This was just what Lyla needed to top of her day: an opportunity to embarrass herself in front of her mentor. She kept her head down low, attempting to push past Tami.

"Sweetheart, wait – " Tami thwarted her attempt at a quick escape, blocking off the door. "Maybe you should button up before you go out there?" In her endeavour for escape, Lyla hadn't even thought to make herself decent. She looked down at her gaping blouse, signing loudly.

"Oh my God. What am I doing? I've lost my mind." She said, mainly to herself, as her fingers made swift work of her buttons. She kept her head down, hoping Mrs. Taylor wouldn't notice the tears now freely rolling down her face.

"Honey, are you okay? I know it can be tough here." Tami said simply, although 'tough' didn't quite cover it. Her first few days at East Dillon were still fresh in her mind; she'd also spent some time back in the day in this bathroom crying. One particularly bad episode stood out in her mind: a student had slapped her, in the quad in front of half the school, when she'd demanded that she stop bullying a younger girl. It had been mortifying and she remembered going home that night and crying to Eric about it whilst drowning her sorrows in Chardonnay.

"It's good, Mrs.T, really good. Just…getting acquainted with the kids." She'd finished with her buttons and didn't know what to do with her hands anymore, folding them neatly in from of her trousers. Mrs. Taylor nodded slowly, clearly not believing whatever Lyla was trying to sell. She looked like she needed someone to talk to, but if Lyla was anything like herself, which Tami suspected she was, she'd keep this bottled up inside, hating the feelings of failure and inadequacy. As much as she wasn't the high school cheerleader anymore, Tami could still clearly remember her after Jason's accident. She'd bottled up so much and when it all exploded after her infidelity with Tim, she didn't know how to cope. She wasn't going to let that happen again, not on her watch.

"Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow night? We never properly welcomed you back to Dillon and I think it would be nice. You can bring Tim too if you'd like. I know Eric was planning on having him over since he's been out." Tami rubbed Lyla's arm for added measure; this wasn't a pity invite. Tami saw something in this girl; it reminded her a little bit of Tyra back in the day: potential. Plus, she had a massive roast sitting in her freezer, a gift from Grandma Saracen now that Julie was 'part of the family' and she knew Tim Riggins was just the guy to help Eric finish it off.

"Ok. Yeah, okay. I think that would be nice." Lyla said, slowly smiling and feeling her breathing start to slow. Now composed, she exchanged details with Mrs. Taylor before making her way out of the bathroom. She had a lot to learn still, she realized, but she was also lucky because she knew she had the best teacher around.

/

For the first time he could remember, Tim was early for class. Even before his parents had ditched town, he was often late for school, his schedule subjected to his alcoholic mother's mood more than any real obligations. But this was round two for his post-secondary career and he sincerely hoped he'd last longer than he did at San Antonio State.

"I'm so incredibly proud of you Tim." Lyla had told him this morning in the shower, when he'd finally confessed to her that he'd been taking classes at Dillon Tech and not sleeping away his afternoons in his trailer, like she'd been lead to believe. He'd received a nice reward for that tidbit of information, although the trailers tiny shower stall barely left enough room for him nonetheless two people attempting shower sex. He was still thinking about Lyla naked and wrapped around him when he threw himself down into a desk, making sure to distance himself from the other students. He had plenty of friends and figured neither the blading middle aged men nor the pimple-faced 18 year olds where suitable additions to his social circle.

"Welcome everyone to Engineering Basics, Day 3. If you're still here, under your own will, then that's a start." The prof started off dryly, clearly used to the fluctuating class size that was common at Dillon Tech. Tim pulled out his notebook and the pencil tucked behind his ear, ready to scribble down whatever the professor scrawled on the chalkboard. His educational career had always been based on using those around him to get ahead. But this was different: he'd chosen to be here. Neither the state nor Lyla had mandated this. Somehow, that made a difference and the Tim Riggins who'd spent over two years skipping every Wednesday of high school was now taking notes furiously.

"Well that's it for today folks. Let's take this up next class. Any questions?" As the professor put down his nub of chalk, Tim gathered his books, surprised at how quickly time had passed. His brain felt crammed with information; he pictured numbers leaking out of his ears as he made his way to the truck. Some of had made sense though, which was a first for him. Not since Landry had read him 'Of Mice and Men' had he walked out of a class feeling like he knew something.

"Honey, I'm home!" His declared unnecessarily as he crossed the trailers threshold. Lyla was sitting in what constituted as the kitchen, pulling out last night's leftovers. This place sure was small, he noticed, especially with Garrity's fancy work clothes hung up all over the place to prevent the ever present threat of wrinkling. She'd been appalled to learn that he didn't own an iron, although he didn't understand the need to smooth out all your clothes when they were just going to get all crinkled anyway.

"How was it?" Lyla asked enthusiastically as she heated up pasta, narrowly avoiding catching the sleeve of one of her hanging dress shirts in the microwave. She was spending a lot of time here, but it was still difficult to adjust to such a small living space. Her dorm at Vanderbilt had been similarly small, but she'd shared it with a small, feisty Korean girl, who when she wasn't snapping at Lyla for 'breathing too loudly' was over at her boyfriends. Tim took up significantly more space, particularly with his constant habit of stretching languidly onto every seat he occupied.

"It was good. I learnt some stuff." Tim said simply. He knew it made Lyla happy that he'd decided to go back to school, but this wasn't like it was with San Antonio State, where he'd done it just for her.

"Yeah? How's it feel to finally be actually learning in a classroom instead of picking up girls and shooting spitballs?" She settled onto the bed, forgoing the rickety table and chairs he often referred to as his 'decorative dining area'. Lyla was excited for him. All she'd ever wanted for Tim was for him to want something for himself. She'd never cared what that was, although for a time she'd tried very hard to make is San Antonia State, just that he was passionate about something. He had all this intelligence and kindness stored in him but with no drive nor much motivation, it was wasted. He needed an outlet, an opportunity to become more than the towns former football star turned alcoholic womanizer, a chance to overcome the prophecy that followed the 'Riggins' name. College was his chance.

"Spitballs? Nah, that wasn't my style back in the day. Although I do miss the rally girls, now those were some memories." He teased her, although the look on her face lacked much humor. She'd been so relaxed since she'd been with him. Lyla was a worrier, which was an adaptive trait he figured she'd picked up after all those years of living with Buddy Garrity, who could find trouble anywhere. However, she'd seemed much more at ease these days, that is until today.

"Well spitballs seem to be the new thing these days. I had two shot at me today at East Dillon. That place is like my kryptonite. Those kids…they just don't care." She leaned against the wall, her food abandoned beside her. She was still thinking about the homework club, ruminating on what she could have done differently.

"You gotta make them care. Isn't that sorta you're job description?" Tim asked, sitting down beside her. He kicked off his boots and ran his fingers through his tangled and windblown hair.

"When did you get so wise, Tim Riggins?" She asked, looking up at him as he nudged her uneaten plate of food, waiting for approval to devour it. She nodded, smiling at him and his insatiable appetite.

"Took up Tai Chi in prison. I've found my inner Bhudda." He joked as he shovelled pasta into his mouth. It was somewhat true; he'd had a lot of time to think whilst in prison. He didn't think he was any wiser nowadays, just maybe overthinking things a lot less than back in the day. Most things, he'd realized, had a pretty simple solution once you really thought about it.

"Well thank God for you and Tami Taylor since I'd be sunk otherwise. She invited us for dinner tomorrow. Coach wants to see you too." It took Tim a minute to figure out who 'Tami' was, since she was always Mrs. T or Mrs. Coach to him. He'd written Coach in prison and although they'd never talked about the stuff he'd written, part of him still felt weird about it. The letters had started off as a way to pass the time; he wasn't even going to mail them since they consisted mostly of his daily musings and contained nothing significant. He'd sent them out at the last minute, figuring he needed to explain himself to Coach, one of the few people who'd believed in him. But now it felt strange, probably what the nameless rally girls felt like after encountering him in the hallways after a night of drunken sex. Coach had now seen that exposed and vulnerable side of him, something he didn't' show to a lot of people.

"Yeah, okay. Maybe I'll even brush my hair for the occasion." Tim joked, referencing to Lyla's many daily comments about his hair getting too long. Prison didn't exactly a barbershop nearby and he liked it this long. He had something to run his hands through when he got nervous, which he was sure was going to happen pretty often at the Taylors tomorrow.

"Oh you're definitely brushing it!" Lyla said, pulling a hairbrush out from the night stand. He quickly set his plate down and jumped away, determined to at least make her work for it. She laughed, chasing him around the small trailer, all thoughts of her horrible day put away at least for a little bit.

/

"I'm half bald now. Coach probably won't even recognize me." Tim joked, referring to his brushed and freshly cut hair, which he'd only let Lyla do after much insistance. Lyla smiled, grabbing his hand as they walked up the familiar front steps of the Taylor's modest home.

"Be good in there." Lyla squeezed his hand, reminding him that this wasn't just 'Mrs. Coach' anymore but her boss now. Not that she thought she had too much to worry about, but you never know with Tim.

"I'm always good. I'm like the role model of goodness. Parents tell their kids 'be more like that saintly boy Tim Riggins'. That's a fact." Tim teased as Lyla rolled her eyes and rang the doorbell.

"Hello! Come on in guys! Tim Riggins, look at you! You look great!" Tami opened the door and promptly wrapped Tim up in a hug so tight that he was sure he felt his ribs shifting around. Back in his high school days, Tim probably would've needed some solid alone time in the boys bathroom following a hug like this from Dillon High's former hottest principal. Nowadays, he returned her hug earnestly, breathing a sigh of relief knowing that she wasn't hateful towards him; he'd found a lot of former Dillon alumni weren't quite so welcoming now that he was Tim Riggins the former convict, even if his crime had been completely non-violent.

"And Lyla don't you just look wonderful. Come on in, guys." Coach appeared in the hallway ushering them in. He was back in the Panther blue, which Tim thought suited him much better than East Dillon red.

"I've got dinner on the table but can I start you guys off with a drink?" Tami asked, ever the excellent hostess. Tim badly wanted to request a beer but bit his tongue. He thanked Mrs. Taylor for the juice she handed him, feeling Lyla's proud gaze; she'd clearly read his mind about the beer.

"So Tim, you're building a house out in Kilroy I here?" Tami asked. Tim often wondered what people would ask him about if he hadn't been building his house. It's not like he had much to offer up given his past year had been spent predominantly in a jail cell. He'd never been much of a casual conversationalist when it came to things like pop culture, but now he was even more lost in that respect. Nonetheless, he could talk about that place all day, so it suited him just fine.

"Tim? Can I talk to you outside?" Coach stepped out from the patio, gesturing to Tim to follow him. Tim stood up slowly, rubbing his palms down his nice jeans, the one's Lyla had bought for him after complaining that every pair he owned was ripped up. He nodded politely to Mrs. Taylor, leaving her and Lyla alone while he ventured outside to face Coach.


	4. Chapter 4

_So everything up until this point has been pretty positive, but this chapter is finally introducing some of the less happy thoughts everyone is thinking! _

_PLEASE READ THE NOTE AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER (ONLY ONCE YOU'VE READ THE WHOLE CHAPTER)_

"I owe you an apology, Tim." Eric said, taking a long drawl of his beer before setting it down on the window ledge. Tim stood beside him awkwardly, looking out onto the Taylor's backyard, scattered with toys and lawn furniture. He didn't like the way Coach said 'Tim'; he never called him that and now it hung awkwardly in the damp, evening air. It was always 'Riggins', accentuated with a pat on the back or when he was particularly angry with him, he'd pull out the full 'Tim Riggins' or occasionally 'son', which always made Tim feel strange inside, it had been a long time since he'd been someone's son.

"Coach, you've got nothing to apologize to me for." Tim couldn't fathom what Eric Taylor had to be sorry about, especially when it came to him. His State ring, one of his most prized possessions, which lay on his cluttered dresser back in the trailer tucked neatly behind his mother's snow globe, was thanks to this man. Most of his favourite memories, the times when he felt the strongest, like someone believed in him, like maybe he could achieve something were carefully intertwined with Coach Taylor and his sentimental speeches, always delivered in a voice that made the hair on Tim's arms stand on end.

"No, son. The letters. I never wrote you back. I never visited. And for that, I apologize." Eric pressed his lips together tightly, wishing his wife was out here to help him with this. But this was something he had to do on his own; his father had taught him that a man owns up to his mistakes and he only hoped to be half the man his father had been.

"It doesn't matter I…I never expected any…anything –" Tim stammered uncharacteristically, wishing he'd asked for that beer after all.

"Just let me do this. I need to do this and you need to see that you deserve it." Eric cut him off, finally looking over at the young man standing beside him, head bent and hair hiding his eyes.

"I let you down. I once told that if you needed anything you could always turn to me. And I meant it, I really did. But I realize now that I wasn't really willing to help you. Not once it got hard, not once you're problems got complicated and messy and required something more of me. When you most needed me, I was a coward. You didn't ask for much and you didn't ask for anything you weren't entitled to. When you wrote to me, I knew what you needed and although you never asked, I knew I should've come to visit." Eric paused, letting the words out for the first time and feeling the weight of them slide off his shoulders. He'd only told Tami recently, keeping the letters in the drawer of his office, hidden underneath football plays and roster sheets, pushed to the back of his drawer and the back of his mind. He'd let himself think he was too busy. He had to get the East Dillon Lions in shape and Tim Riggins was a grown man who for once in his life was going to have to pay for his actions. But the letters kept coming and they weren't what he expected. The first few were humorous and light-hearted, jokes about the terrible food and lodgings, the shocking discomfort of sleeping two feet away from your exposed toilet. But soon, humor were replaced with darkness, at first satirical stories about the guards, puffed up with a false sense of power and then towards the end, cryptic quotes from books, which Eric assumed Tim must be reading to pass the time. The last letter had been the shortest, a quote written in Tim's scrawl: "But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin." Eric had crumpled that particular letter to the very back of his drawer, not even bothering to fold it and stack it neatly with the others.

"I wasn't in the right state of mind in there, Coach…" Tim said, not sure what else to say, wanting to ease Coach's pain. He had wanted him to visit, he couldn't deny that. Eric Taylor was probably one of the few worthwhile men in his life and he'd disappointed him. Those letters had started as a way to reach out, to tell him that he was sorry for becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy, that he was sorry he'd wasted his time. But halfway through, they'd turned into something else: a way to let it out. It's not that he wasn't in the right state of mind, as he'd told Coach. For the first time in a long time, he didn't have any distractions and he had to think about things, things he didn't want to think about. Everyone always assumed Tim was so often silent because the inner workings of his brain were simple: a cog and a wheel turning constantly, fueled by beer, sex and football. But if anyone had taken the time to really take a look, they'd soon realize it was a big mess of a parts in there and most of the time, he had no idea how to organize his thoughts into anything coherent so he just stayed quiet. In prison, there was too much quiet and too much time to think about things that made him hurt worse than the biggest football hits he could imagine, maybe even hurt worse than watching Jason taken away on a stretcher. Those letters, well, they let him scream. He thought Coach would hear those screams and maybe make sense of them and maybe understand, maybe even help him sort them out. He'd once told Tyra he was 'tired of overthinking things' and she'd laughed, wondering what he could possibly be 'overthinking'. If only she knew, he thought back, but then again that was the problem: no one really knew, not even the people he told, like Coach Taylor.

"Tim, you should be disappointed in me. I know you've probably had so many people let you down in your life that you probably can't even feel disappointment anymore, don't think you're entitled to it anymore. But that doesn't make it right. I promised you I'd help and when all you needed was for me to show up, to say 'yes I heard you and I'm here', I didn't. Not because I didn't understand or because I couldn't, but because I was afraid. I didn't want to face you and all your complications so I stayed away and ignored you, and made it easier for myself. For that I'm sorry." Eric placed his hand on Tim's shoulder, making him look up at him. His eyes shined in the moonlight and he nodded slightly, his face silhouetted by his hair. He reminded him of the Tim Riggins of Dillon Panther fame, not the all-star football player, but the boy who thought it was his fault Jason Street was paralyzed, who re-watched those game tapes in the darkness of the locker room.

"Thank you, Coach." He replied quietly. They stood there like this for a moment, Eric not moving his hand away and Tim frozen to the Taylor's back porch. Minutes passed, neither feeling the need to move.

"We should get back in there before Tami thinks we're trying to escape." Eric said finally breaking the spell and moving towards the door.

"Yeah, for sure." Tim followed him, feeling suddenly relaxed, as if he'd just gotten out of a warm bath, his body soothed. Coach was right, he'd needed that apology, even if he didn't know it nor think he deserved it.

"And Tim? If you ever need anything, you best be sure to come to me. I mean it this time. Anything." Eric said, before making his way back into the house.

/

"So, how is it being back?" Tami asked, offering Lyla a glass of wine, despite her usual stringent rules about underage drinking. She figured Lyla needed to relax and take the edge off a little and Tami was a big supporter of letting wine do its job.

"It's strange. This place is like a weird time capsule. I mean, stuff changes of course since I don't think anyplace can go completely unchanged. People leave and newcomers arrive but the plot stays the same. It's like those daytime soaps where they'll cast a new actor for one of the show's main characters and the story keeps on going, even though this new person looks totally different. They still have the same lines and the same role and everyone just pretends it's the same guy, but really it's not. Pretty soon, you forget the original guy and the assimilation is complete, you know? I guess it feels weird to be back here, since I really thought when I left, I'd left for good." She'd recently gone to a Panther's charity event at the insistence of her father and met a running back that could have been Smash William's clone. The new quarterback, Vince reminded her of Tim, with his shoddy past but also of Jason, with his ambition to be more than just a one-time small town star. The people in this town were archetypes, symbols that remained unchanged even if the faces were different. She felt like she'd never left and part of her wondered what she was doing here, it felt like taking a step backwards. Even Tim, despite her love for him, was her past. She didn't know where any of this fit in with her future or at least the future she'd always pictured.

"I think life is kind of like that everywhere, honey. As much as a place has to change, it still has to stay grounded in some way. The fundamental parts of that soap opera character, of Dillon and even of ourselves needs to have something solid and unwavering to plant its roots in." Tami remembered having these thoughts herself when she was Lyla's age, remembered thinking they were original and part of her own, personal angst. She had to laugh now at how obvious this step was to almost every young woman's transition from the security and routine of childhood to the unpredictable turbulence of adulthood.

"I don't know if I want to plant roots in anything, really. It seems like once you decide to do that, you limit yourself. Why not grow outside of the box, instead of steadily in it?" Lyla hated the thought of fixed boundaries, being stuck to something or some place because it was familiar and felt safe. Her whole life she had worked hard to make something of herself, hoping to use success to get out of Dillon, to travel to amazing places, meet new people and have incredible experiences. Yet, she was back here and despite herself, she was happy. She had tried not to give it much thought, this newfound happiness, since she usually found herself overthinking these kind of thinks and ruining them for herself. But with the newfound difficulties at East Dillon, it was easy to think maybe she should go somewhere else. It nagged at her; maybe her failings at East Dillon was the universes way of telling her that she didn't belong here. Maybe she should use her accomplishments, the long list of scholarships, awards and highly acclaimed job titles she'd secured over the past two years, to move away from here and go to a school that provided real offices with name plates, computers from this decade and kids that appreciated her.

"That box you talk about Lyla, that's something that you make yourself. It's not Dillon that will hold you back, if that's where you choose to plant your roots. I'm living proof of that, I'd like to think." When Tami had first gone back to school, everyone had been shocked at her decision to give up the 'stay at home mom' title. Julie had just started school and didn't need her anymore, Eric was busy as assistant coach of the Panthers at the time and was certainly capable of fixing dinner for himself every once in a while. Going back to get her Masters of Education wasn't something homemakers from Dillon did on an everyday basis and while it definitely got her some disapproving glances at church, it never stopped her. That had been her attitude then and it was the same now; it's what kept her going until she made it to principal of West Dillon and what kept her alive when she reluctantly gave up that job to go back to counselling.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I don't know Mrs. Taylor. I always pictured myself in some place like New York or Boston, going to art museum openings on the weekend and vacationing in wine country. Helping kids prep their college applications for the Iveys and watching them give valedictorian speeches. I never wanted to be back here." Lyla had pictured herself bonding with these kids while they opened up to her about eating disorders, pressure from parents, sibling conflicts; things she could relate to. But once she'd reached the internship portion of her college program, she'd soon realized that jobs like that didn't go to unconnected small town girls, no matter how many shining reference letters she produced. And, although she didn't want to admit it, jobs like that didn't make her happy. She'd volunteered in some of the private schools near Vanderbilt and found herself profoundly disappointed in her experiences with these kids, whose problems often revolved around being lazy and entitled, things she couldn't fix as much as she tried. Coming to Dillon had been a compromise, one of the few internships she'd been offered and a chance to go home for a bit, to a place and people she thought she understood.

"I can understand the appeal of that kind of place. I mean, it's easier than East Dillon and probably better paid too. You probably don't need to go through metal detectors every morning and your letter opener won't be confiscated as a weapon. But easy isn't always better, Lyla. You can make a difference here. You can change these kid's lives. I know it sounds cheesy and like some sort of after school special that you'd roll your eyes at, but believe me when I say that. Look at Vince and what Eric did for him. Heck, even look at Tyra! That's the thing about this place, it presents you with opportunities. All you have to do is not be afraid to work hard and grab hold of them." Tami watched Lyla carefully, hoping she understood the chance she had here. Lyla looked up and caught Tami's eyes for a moment, but before she could reply, the screen door slid open and Eric, followed closely by Tim, re-entered.

"Besides, I think there's a lot here for you in Dillon to explore. I don't think you're done here just yet, Ms. Garrity." Tami added, following Lyla's gaze as it settled on Tim.

/

"That was nice." Tim stated simply as he sat back in his truck, unaccustomed to the passenger seat. Lyla was driving since Mrs. Coach had broken the rules and let him have a couple of beers. Tim tapped the dashboard restlessly, not sure what to do with his hands without a wheel to occupy them.

"It was nice to see them again. Reminded me of old times a bit, but it was still good." Lyla replied, focused on driving stick, which she hadn't done in years.

"What's wrong with old times? Hell, I thought that was the best part. We were Lyla Garrity, head cheerleader and Tim Riggins, #33 there for a bit. I missed that." Tim didn't understand Lyla's constant desire to run away from who she was back in high school. He liked that version of her, to him she was still that same person but now with a few tweaks thanks to adulthood and experience.

"Don't you think it would be nice to get out of here and not be those people? Go somewhere where no one knows who we used to be?" Lyla asked, feeling tired all of a sudden. Tim would never change. He would always be 'Texas Forever' and #33. That was part of why she loved him: his unwavering constancy. But she didn't think love should hold you back and it seemed like a requirement to loving Tim Riggins was loving Dillon, which wasn't something she was prepared for.

"Seems like you want to go somewhere and play dress up. Tell them you're Madame Lyla Garrity with Royal blood running through your veins and a perfect nuclear family waiting for you in your downtown high rise? I don't get it, Garrity. Why can't you just be happy being you? Isn't it enough that you've got the job you've always wanted, someone who cares about you and a roof over your head?" Tim sighed and rubbed his temples. No one would question that Lyla was smarter than him, but she sure could be an idiot sometimes, he thought.

"No, Tim! I want to go somewhere where I can go into the grocery store and not hear 'Oh, that's the girl who cheated on her paralyzed boyfriend'! Or 'That girl is sleeping with the town convict'! I want to go somewhere where people bother to get to know me instead of thinking they already know everything they need to know when they hear my dad is Buddy Garrity!" She'd been holding this in ever since she got here. She'd been so busy being letting herself relax and just be in love with him that she'd forgotten why they'd ended up so far apart in the first place. She wasn't happy being another character in this town's never-ending story.

"So you're ashamed? Of who you used to be? Of me? You think you're better than this place? Because you're not, Lyla. The past is the past and not all parts of it can be happy and wonderful. Some parts sucked but that's how the story goes. It's a part of you and it got you here and made you who you are. Hell, my story has got much shittier chapters than yours. If you think whispers are bad, try hearing it when they say or rather yell it to your face. But you know what? I'm okay with it all, because it led me to here and to you. I'm happy and that's enough for me." Tim said as they pulled up to the trailer. He got out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. Lyla watched him go, leaning her head on the wheel and wondering how the hell she even got here.

/

_The main thing I want to address here is the different directions Tim and Lyla's lives are taking. Tim thought he had everything figured out, but then it fell apart. But he's rebuilding and recovering and learning along the way, which has made him realize who he is and what he wants from life. Meanwhile, Lyla always thought she had things figured out and always thought she could handle anything, even a return to a place like Dillon, that she wanted to leave. But she's still wavering in what she wants and fighting with herself. She had all these big dreams for herself and she still wants to achieve those but she's realizing that she's also really happy with this 'simple' life in this place she never thought she'd be back at. Part of her still doesn't want to accept that this is what she wants, since she's worked so hard to get away and become more than her small town existence. This creates conflict with Tim, who's done finally not lost and has self-reflected enough to know what he wants._

_Just wanted to explain that in case it wasn't clear from the chapter. Please review and let me know what you think. This chapter is a little more intense than usual for me, so I'm pretty unsure of it._


End file.
